


Storge (B/love)

by thebookmen2



Series: Agape Series [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Altean Lance (Voltron), Alternate Timelines, Balmerans - Freeform, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Galra Hunk, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Hunk & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Fluff, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Love, M/M, Merman Lance, Mershark Keith, Olkari Keith, Olkari Lance, Resurrection, Shipping, klance, pidge Knows all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-27 22:19:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12591772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebookmen2/pseuds/thebookmen2
Summary: Neither time nor space can break the strings of fate, they will always lead back to you.OrKlance experiencing every type of love I can think ofAndI like to imagine those ten thousand years between the fall of Altea and the formation of Voltron again with a sprinkle of voltron members resurrections in prefect times and places to fight the Galra empire *cough* destiny, fate *cough* magical giant metal lions *cough* this makes perfect sense(First installment of the Agape series)





	1. Give me a shot to remember

**Author's Note:**

> Tags are huge spoiler so read them if u dare??
> 
> Also i wanted Felp to be ulaz and Thance to be well...Thace, but then i realized that that's not how this universe AU works and only team voltron can be reincarnated so...kinda galra ocs? but not really because u can just pretend that felp is ulaz and thance is thace ^w^

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fall of Altea will bring rise to fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to post chapters bit by bit :/ its probably annoying but its #nopressure on my part so....if you like this fic keep checking or wait until u get a notification of next chapter and read the previous chapter?? 
> 
> Also dont be shy to comment i dont bite much ;)

The usual peaceful night in the Altean capital city as alight with terror. The moons, beacons of hopeful light, snuffed out by a blanket of war ships. The streets were alight with the eerie purple glow of the search lights, pinning pointed eared and glowing Alteans’ before executing them on the spot. 

“For Voltron!” Roared a sword wielding Altean, charging into the street where rows upon rows of Galra soldiers stomped through in neat lines. Felp’s virtual targeting system locked onto the man before he had even charged. Pulling the trigger, he closed his eyes. The wet thump and half gargle yelp painted the image behind his eyelids for him. His ears twitched, and unlike his closed eyes hidden under his helmet he could not hide the involuntary flinch. 

A heavy paw fell onto his shoulder, “Exterminate all Alteans, Sargent. That is the will of Lord Zarkon.” His superior officer reminded him. Felp gave a sharp nod. 

“It is the will of Lord Zarkon,” He repeated back to him, the strain in his voice hidden as his helmet locked onto a new target. He pulled the trigger before even assessing it. The Altean fell, white locks matching her nightgown turning red. She couldn’t have been more than 15 quinga’s old. This seemed to be enough for his superior as his dominating musk left Felps senses moments later. 

Heavily breathing, the soldier marched on, laser gun cradled in his arms as the purple circle directing his eyes jerked to non Galra movement. He felt twitchy around the army of sentinels that was a replacement of his pack mates. These lifeless, metallic smelling drowns made his instincts scream wrong every time he let them watch his back as he peaked into another Altean nest. He even preferred the dominating presence of his superior over the nothingness these sentinels gave off. But this was the will of Zarkon.  


Signalling to his small robotic squad to watch the door, Felp charged into the last nest on the block. It was like every other one so far. Tall white ceilings held up by shinny walls that gave off a faint glow. Open spaces, which was convenient for attack with hardly any place to hide. Felp silently crept around the walls of the nest. Every sense on high alert waiting to be ambushed any moment. Something rotting and metallic caught his nose, and he followed this to the source. One glance in the kitchen had him reeling away from the obvious Altean corpse. He politely activated the door to let the enemy of Zarkon rest in peace on the kitchen counter. He was grateful he was in the second wave attack and not the first, he didn’t think he could stomach killing more than the stragglers he had encountered so far. 

Sighing, he creped towards the next room, instantly freezing in place as a familiar high pitched whine cut through the war outside the nest. Felp had stopped breathing. Heart beat in his ears as he strained to listen, hoping he had heard wrong. The sharp cry sounded again and Felp prayed to Zarkon for this to be a trick as his feet took him towards the sound instantly. It was an out of body experience he could not stop if he wanted to. He heaved a fallen piece of furniture out of his way, claws leaving dents in the wood. He pawed the obvious door behind it, feeling around the wall for a lock pad. His ear pressed to the cool surface when it sounded again and his movements became frantic. 

Claws found the pad however no matter how much pressure he pushed against it the door would not disappear. He resisted the urge to gnaw on it, fighting to regain reason. The weight of the gun slung around his shoulder brought him back, and for the first time that night he shot it without a death on the other side of the light. The door flickered before rising up and Felp was through it as soon as his body could fit through. The heavy air hit him like a brick, stale on his tongue and nearly too thick to breathe. This room was different from the others. Instead of the clean white, the walls gave off an Altean sky blue. It was cluttered with stuffed creatures and small trinkets that made his heart clench. Colourful stickers and hanging space ship toys on delicate strings. His helmet target system engaged as his eyes passed over a small nest of blankets held in what looked like a large serving bowl. Gun raised on instinct, Felp tip toes forwards slowly. His breath hitched at the sight. Large blue eyes above faintly glowing birthmarks observed him silently, prickled with tears. The sharp blanket of maternal instincts that had guided him towards this child snapped as tiny pale hands reached out towards the mussel of the blaster still held tightly in Felps grip. 

“E-Exterminate all Alteans,” he whimpered, the targeting system on his helmet blazing for attention at the glow of Altean birth markings. They were blue, just like his eyes but a few shades lighter. “It is the will of Lord Zarkon,” he hissed. The Altean tilted its small head, revealing pointed ears. It was such a familiar gesture of confusion that Felp had to physically step back out of view of the child. “E-Exterminate-“ he tried to remind himself before he was cut off by the child’s cry. Blaster dropping to his side, his hands reached out and held the baby before he could stop and think. It was warm and heavy, whimpering dying down as Felp purred feverishly like he does to calm his own Kit back home. It worked just as well, lighting the Alteans face up and making the tear tracks down his face look out of place. Felp released his helmet as well, the device hitting the floor so he can observe the Kit without the warning blare of the device getting in his way. He held the child closer to his face and it giggled, tracing its tiny fingers across the red fur line between his brow to the scar above his lip and to his pointed teeth. All the while Felp was taking in every detail of the Kit with awe. 

“You are just like my Keith,” he whispered to the Kit, but it was too preoccupied with his ears to have actually be listening to him. “But no tail or fur, well maybe a little fur” he observed the white sheet of hair covering his delicate head. Felps thumb covered the glowing marks below his eyes, a traitorous plan beginning to form in his mind, one that his instincts had already pushed into motion. He could not let this Kit be slaughtered. It had done nothing to his empire, why should it have to suffer the same fate as the corpse in the kitchen? He would not let it be killed. Mind set and ablaze with protective pheromones he carefully placed the Kit back down in the bowl nest. Swiftly, he bit into his hand with sharp fangs, drawing purple red blood. Carefully he painted over the glowing marks, cooing as the Kit squirmed to try to calm it. 

“Sir,” the robotic chime of a sentinel chirped its arrival at the door. Felp beared his teeth at the intruder however it did not register the aggression and ‘go away!’ smells he was giving off unlike another one of his species. “Your helmet disengaged,” it informed him without missing a beat. Felp snatched the bundle of Kit in his arms, using his body as a shield. 

“I am aware, thank you,” he attempted to keep the growl out of his voice as much as possible, even if the robot would not pick up on it. 

“Life form detected, scanning,” it beeped as Felp stalked further into the room, away from the threat to his Kit. His hand shot out to his side for his blaster as the scan completed with a ding, the sentinels ‘eyes’ glowing green. “Galra,” it concluded, turning away from them both, “keep the helmet on at all times,” the robot instructed before walking back to its post. Felp turned his attention back to the Kit. Once pale skin blossomed purple fuzzy fur. Pointed ears wider and flat teeth sharper. The colour pattern was a half attempt at his own red, purple and light violet. His purring maximised at the sight. 

“Copycat Alteans,” Felp chuckled, nuzzling his new Kit to stimulate tiny giggles, “If I’m not mistaken, Lance means Ocean in Altean,” he hummed to the still blue eyed Kit that reminded him so much of the water covering almost all planets. “My little Lance,” 

 

*** 

“LANCE!” Screamed a very disgruntled toddler, Kit claws gripping his tail tightly before hissing his annoyance at his younger brother. Lance’s grin was wide and toothy, far too smug for his age. 

“Lance stop pulling Keith’s tail,” Felp half-heartedly ordered without needing to turn to face his Kits who were playing in the darkened den. As he carefully sliced his mates kill, he kept an ear out just in time to catch the rising new fight about to take place. 

“He poked me first!” the smaller of the two protested, provoking a juvenile growl a little too high pitched to be intimidating just yet. 

“You were glowing again!” Keith objected just as fast. There was a squeal, and Felp turned around to see his little ocean Kit pouncing onto his brother. Keith reacted faster, just like his father, swiping Lance away from his exposed face. Scrambling away, Lance’s fur became patchy in areas along his arms, provoking the older Galra to glance around the room, checking all the openings were covered in sheet. Before Felp decided to step in, knowing that play fighting was healthy for his Kits, there were toys being tossed from behind his chair. Making feral noises as a few landed their mark, Keith advanced towards Lances hiding spot before being avalanched completely. He nimbly launched himself onto the chair, Lance blindly throwing his stash as his hair whitened around the roots. The air attack was a success, Lance least expecting a fully grown Kit to fall right on top of him, pinning his limbs down and growling for submission. Stubbornly, Lance refused to bear his neck as always and Felp finally began to advance on his brood at the aggressive flickering of Keiths’ tail, signalling the end of a play fight and the beginning of a real one. 

“Alright you two,” Felp huffed, snatching up his little warrior and putting on his best ‘I’m annoyed with both of you’ stance. Immediately they both cowered down, apologetic sounds replacing aggressive growls. 

“Keith started-“ Lance began and before the other Kits heckles could rise further Felp shut the new fight down. 

“I don’t care who started it, I’m ending it,” he huffed as he gently stroked Keiths head, the calming affect almost instant. “Lance, watch your fur,” Felp ordered, a phrase that was repeated in his nest at least five times a day. The smaller Kit glanced down at his arms and sure enough the purple red was fading rapidly. The cutest determined expression crossed his face and Felp had to look away so he could still pretend to be mad at them. Slowly Lance’s signature shade of purple, suspiciously close to Keiths own, began to fill in. Light purple streaks framed his face and Felps own shade of red covered the Altean glow. Felp hummed, satisfied as soon as his Kits eyes filled in to the light yellow, border-line blue, that he knew he could not hide as well. “You have to remember Lance, concentrate. Don’t want you losing your fur around other people,” he lightly scolded before leaning down and nuzzling his Kit lightly, just to be sure he knows Papa isn’t really mad.

“You’re far too easy on them darling,” His mate hummed, signalling his arrival. Purring, Felp padded over to his mate quickly, Keith still tightly holding on and ducking just in time to avoid his Papa from kissing him again instead of their father. 

“You’re home early,” Felp hummed, entertained by the way his mate chased after his lips when he pulled away too quickly. Keith wiggled in his arms, becoming restless or just trying to get away as his father had left the door open, an invitation for an adventurous kit. 

“The new recruits are handling themselves a lot better with the sentinels, I didn’t have to pull Shiro off of one’s head today before the thing was decapitated, now that was expensive,” Thanse reported, taking his oldest kit from his partners hands before closing the door with his back as his youngest scrambled towards him, and more likely the door. He kneeled down to Lances level, prompting the kit to purr loudly as he attempted to scale his father to be held as well. However Keith was not having that it seemed, using his back paws to bat at Lances advancing head. Amused, their father scooped both of his kits up much to Keith dismay and Lances delight. Spinning around, making Lance squeal with joy, “and how are my little warriors going?” he grinned. Catching Felps disapproving eye he slowed down their game of flight simulator (a game that both his Kits thoroughly enjoyed), instead holding them close to his chest to replace the coldness there that had built up in the day with sentinels and packless angsty recruits. 

“We too! We too!” Lance chanted, proceeding to make gun noises and a series of hisses he had probably picked up from listening to the Lord Zarkon fleet channel on their communicator. Keith looked up at his father expectantly, if he was any other kit he would be making whining noises or solider make believe like Lance. 

“You’re both still a little too small just yet,” he tried to let them down easy, but now Lance was whining. 

“We don’t wanna be small, when are we gonna get big!” Lance demanded. It was always we, never I, as if Lance could not see himself joining Zarkons fleet without his big brother. 

“You have to be at least my size and you have to grow out of your tail,” Felp stepped in, taking his struggling, and now complaining, Lance away from a rapidly annoyed Keith who’s tail began to flick again with Lance taking up his father’s attention. 

“That’s going to take forever,” Keith mumbled, hardly audible over Lances protesting and attempts to make himself taller. Thanse gave Felp a pleading look, however Felp shut that down before he could suggest early training, a subject they had both discussed, or rather Thanse bringing it up and then being growled at until he changed to a different subject. Thanse averted his eyes, submitting before Felp growled in front of the kits. 

“Be grateful the goal isn’t my size,” Thanse said instead, provoking a look of utter horror on Keiths face at the seemingly impossible goal. Thanse was two heads taller than Felp and three times as broad. A perfect Galra specimen, the complete opposite of his Galraess mate who was built for stealth and speed rather than brute force. But Felp was the fastest, nimblest and most flexible out of all the Galraesses in their sector, which is why he was Thanses. He looked forward to see how powerful their kits would become, Galra or Galraesses worthy of fighting for the empire. 

“I’m gonna be fathers size!” Lance announced, breaking free of Felps hold and landing on all fours before puffing out his chest while balancing on his toes, “I don’t have a tail so I’m half way there!” he added. Keiths heckles rose, an aggressive spitting hiss sounding that made Lances ears fold flat to his head. Before either of their parents could intervene a loud and joyous Galraess swang open their door. A large, brightly clothed kit came bolting in, rushing between Felps legs and crashing into Lance with a loud purr. 

“Hunk!” Lance squawked, his stand off with Keith instantly forgotten as the large kit groomed his face excitedly, prompting giggles and complaints about messing up his perfectly groomed fur. 

“So sorry to interrupt,” Hunks mother, just as large as Thanse however more rounded in the middle with less sharp facial features, said with a warm glow that always followed her and her Kit around. She made herself as small as she physically could in Thanses presence even if she had been told time after time he did not feel Felp or his kits were threatened around her anymore. 

“It’s that time already?” Felp glanced at the communicator and sure enough it was already mid-morning. Small faces peered around Hunks mothers legs, and upon realising there was a fully grown Galra inside they scrambled back to the Galraess taking them out today. 

“Afraid so,” the motherly Galraess smiled warmly at her kit and his friend who had miraculously peeled himself from under Hunk and had now recruited him in stashing all of his toys behind the sofa again. 

“Down you go then,” Thanse huffed, mimicking how a fighter jet lands as he places his kit back down, this brightens Keith up a little. 

Keith didn’t even make it two steps before Felp had him in his arms again, “You sure you don’t need extra help today?” Felp suggested, faintly grooming Keiths long tuffs of hair with his paws as if stalling for time. 

“We’re fine, Felp. They need a little independent time with other kits in their sector. And,” the large Galraess smirked suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows, “you would benefit with a little time alone with your mate,” Thanse glanced at him shyly, large fingers fiddling together. 

“Don’t put ideas in his head, Malana,” Felp deadpanned, however unable to hide the darken purple at his nape, a blush that his mate noticed and momentarily internally celebrated. 

“They will be fine,” Malana promised, slowly extracting Keith from Felps tight hold and calling for Hunk and Lance to follow. Felp let Keith go in favour of catching Lance before he made it outside with the other kits. 

“Remember, concentrate,” he ordered, tapping Lances nose and holding himself back from embracing him and hiding him in his den like he wanted too. Determination sparked in Lances eyes as he gave his Papa a swift nod. Anyone outside of their family would think Felp was ordering his overexcited and easily distracted kit to calm down and learn what he was being taught, but they knew otherwise. Felp caught Keiths eyes, he understood too. 

“Ok! Come along now, Lance,” Malana held out her paw and Lance slowly took it. Quickly, Hunk skipped to his other side, taking Lances other paw in his own with a large grin. “Bye bye,” Malana sung as Felp leaned in towards his mate again, seeking out comfort and an anchor to hold him back from chasing after his brood.

*** 

“Victory, Lord Zarkon. Victory, for the Galra race. I swear my oath, loyalty and obedience to Lord Zarkon, let his enemies fall by the mighty empires hand. My breath, my mind, my heart, my soul, I surrender them for the advance of the empire and the fall of those against us.” The small group of kits recited, fists to their hearts and heads held high, copying the various Galraesses watching over them. They held their stance for a moment longer, and Lance glanced over at Keith in this time to see if he was standing correctly. It appeared that he wasn’t, and Lance quickly turned out his fist just like his brother who’s eyes shifted to him with a glare. Sticking out his tongue, Lance turned back to face the front and caught the eye of one of the new Galraess who was also glaring at him with disapproval. Lance ducked his head, ears turned in and apologetic.  
“Ok everyone, dismissed,” Malana chirped happily. Instantly various kits pounced and ran around each other in greeting. Getting familiar with scents again after being a week away. Keith was instantly dragged away by a small cluster of Galra kits while Hunk pounced around with Galraess kits. Lance looked between the two, hands caught in his shirt with twiddling fingers. He slowly stepped towards his brother who was toying with a miniature fighter jet one of the other kits had brought with them. He didn’t seem to be enjoying himself, Lance could fix that. 

“Keef,” Lance exclaimed, pouncing on his brother playfully, trying to engage him in a play fight. Not interested in the slightest, Keith attempted to ignore Lance, turning his body and toy away even as Lance began to crawl between his arms to draw his attention away. 

“No,” Keith whined, pushing Lances face away. Grumbling, Lance pushed on until Keith’s back was too him. 

“Lance!” Hunk called, waving his chubby arms. Lances ears peeked up and he ditched his annoying brother for amazing friendly best bro Hunk. Rushing over, his shoulder connected with a larger kit. Stumbling the rest of the way, he threw an apology over his shoulder before he collided with Hunk. 

Hunk caught him easily, “You gotta help me with our den!” Hunk insisted, pointing to the hole that was currently being dug by a handful of other kits. Suddenly Lance realised Hunk was covered head to tail in red orange dirt. He shrieked, stepping back from his friend to dust off his front. 

“Sorry buddy, that’s too dirty,” Lance grimaced, hoping there wasn’t red paw prints on his back, these were new clothes! 

“Aww! Come on Lance!” Hunk pleaded as Lance tried to lick the red from his fur. There wasn’t supposed to be red there, he only puts red on his face and that’s only fur.

“I’ll supervise, you need a super supervisor for our den,” Lance suggested, taking two steps away, this seemed to cheer Hunk up a bit. Lance glanced back over his shoulder to Keith. The older kit was looking his way, however turned his attention back to the toy with a pout and then back again to him to make sure Lance knew he was being ignored. Sighing, Lance turned back to Hunk who was now on all fours with the rest of the group scooping up dirt. Lance took his super supervisor job very seriously, advising Hunk that they should pile the dirt up to make seats outside their den. Hunk thought this was a great idea and set to work before Lance tested out the seats. He pat down the space next to him and grinned at a pretty Galraess kit in a red dress. She turned her nose up at him. 

“Hey,” a voice sounded behind him. Before he could turn around and see who it was there was suddenly dirt in his face. He gagged, standing up and stumbling away. Stinging eyes and dirt in his mouth. Someone pushed him, his head hitting the ground hard and his vulnerable belly exposed. 

“Enemy of Zarkon!” a kit screeched with a laugh, and Lance only saw a purple blur before there were bodies on him. Tiny claws and teeth going for his eyes and throat. He screamed. 

But he wasn’t. He was concentrating. He was concentrating. He was like everyone else. He wasn’t different. Because he was concentrating. Hunk wailed somewhere to his left, probably being held back from helping by the sounds of kits hissing submit. He tried to wrap his arms around his head to protect himself but they were pinned in place. And he couldn’t move but Papa said not to panic because panic means losing his fur. He exposed his neck, made himself look smaller as much as he could and pressed his ears to his head just like Papa taught him. He was submitting. But they didn’t stop. A feral, enraged growl sounded above him and he found himself able to move as the kits where thrown off him. Curling up into himself he covered his ears and closed his eyes. 

Keith was livid. Seeing only red as he swiped at another face with his claws. Some ran away but the bigger ones fought back, their tails flicking out behind them. He went for their legs, unbalancing them before growling right in their faces for submission. His face wiped to the side against a hard punch but it was an involuntary reaction and he didn’t feel it because he was biting arms and kicking faces. Then there was hands around his waist and a tight hold on the back of his neck as he kicked and screamed. The Galraess growled, and something clicked in his brain. Bigger, enemy, too big, he’s small. Can’t fight. And he froze, however keeping the insubordinate scowl on his face.

“Enough,” The Galraess huffed as he tried to carry Keith off to the other side of the pen, but Keith turned around to see another Galraess kneeling down next to Lance and he kicked out of the hold. Shielding Lance with his body he growled deep at the fully grown Galraess. She was startled, backing away with her hands out in surrender.

“Keef,” Lance sobbed, and Keith turned his attention back to his brother, pulling him away from the other kits and Galraesses for privacy. Once at the edge of the pen, behind a large black rock, he gently guided Lances’ hands away from his face, momentarily memorised by the glowing blue water dripping from his eyes. “I concentrated,” Lance whimpered, attempting to tell Keith he didn’t lose his fur and not to worry. Lance tried to blink the dirt from his eyes, but then there was Keith, carefully licking his eyelids. Lances tears were sweet against the bitter dirt but Keith didn’t like this taste. 

“You’re not like other kits,” Keith started, and Lance went quiet, “and its good.” he assured, putting his hand of Lances shoulder to make him look at him. “We’re different, but we’re still brothers,” he urged, meeting Lances bright blue yellow eyes, “if they come pick on you again you tell me and I’ll bite them,” Lances bottom lip trembled and Keith pretends he doesn’t notice. 

“Ok,” Lance sobbed, raising his hands to wipe at the water running down his face. It didn’t look pretty to Keith anymore. He liked Lances’ flat teeth smile a lot more, and his glow, but not this. This different he didn’t like.

////This chapter is finished but is an unbeta sample, yay? Nay?

//// I've also added in more Galra 'law', tell me what u think ;)


	2. Lather the Blood on your Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance just wants to go outside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated the last chapter :)
> 
> Also mind the time skip, approx....16 years?
> 
> Plus I'm sorry for the heavy dialogue?  
> I blame it on having to listen to music while writing because its so noisy (it was my chemical romance black parade album i was listening to if you wanted to know....loud enough to block out all the noise but distracting enough i forget what i was writing :(((( )

Lance was floating. Fingers stretched and spread then closing around the cosmic water. Heart beat so slow in his ears, echoing the path he was lead down. His tongue heavy in his mouth, eyes squeezed tight but mind wide open. In this shifting darkness he drifted like the shinning blue spheres moving around him. A colour he was all too familiar with, a colour he hid and denied and burned. But now, he was drawn to it, at peace in it. He let it move over his body in waves, pulling him closer and closer to- to something. The very core of his being sung out to it, the centre of this calming cosmic lake of sapphire stars. 

An itch flicked out against his cheek. Lance scrunched his nose, turning his face away from the buzzing that was slowly drowning out his slow rhythmic heartbeat. The sensation spread up his face, circling his eye, lingering on his forsaken marks before shooting to his scalp. The cool water turned hot around his face like a fever setting in. He snarled at it, irritated at this sensation disturbing his calm. His eyes snapped open to confront it, and for a moment he was still in this galactic blue until a sudden rush of green stabbed through his vision. A vice-like grip squeezed his body, sharp barbed wire pulled around his throat as a heavy boot planted itself in his lungs. This was not his happy place anymore. 

He twisted, cheek scraping against harsh gravel as he tried to get his hands under himself to push himself to a stand. An explosion of force smacked him back down to earth and he cried out his breath as his lungs refused to take more in. Panicking, he rolled. A boot landed in the space his head was moments before. He followed the frustrated snarl up to a face. A Galra. General. But status didn’t matter because he was attacking again and Lance had run out of space to run. His body was so small, smaller than it should be. Breakable. He would surely die. 

“WAIT!” Lances head wiped to another advancing Galra, his face pleading but body language demanding dominance. He locked eyes with dim gold, a contrast to the tuff of white fur amongst the purple. And then there was a hand gripping Lances scruff, pulling him passed the green, straight through the blue cosmos and back into his bedroom.

He gasped for air. The world tilting before the anchoring grip switched from the back of his neck to his body, holding him flushed against a hard chest. The lights flickered dangerously around him, each spark igniting pain behind his eyes. He hissed, moving his face into the warmth beside him and the lights stopped. But there was still an eerie glow illuminating his old nest sheets. He stared at them dumbly, because this was not the warm oranges and pinks the sunrise promised but a cold blue. His body pulsed in certain places, lines of borderline pain throbbing, demanding attention. He mentally traced one burning trail to his hand and he slowly lifted it up to his line of vision. His breath caught in his throat as he gazed at the trembling limb alight with the same glow as his cheeks. _He_ was the glow. 

“-ance. Lance! Look at me!” A voice, sounding as if this was not the first time it had tried to get his attention. Gradually, he turned his face up to meet the yellow glow of his nest mates’ eyes. Ah, it made sense now, it was Keiths warmth and strength he was leaning into and being held up by. Those eyes softened, however so slightly that if he wasn’t paying attention he would have missed it. “You had another bad dream again,” Keith whispered, thumb stroking the small of his back where his tail was meant to be. Sluggishly, Lance nodded his head, grimacing at the scratch of his dry skin against Keiths’ chest. “Watch your fur,” Keith hummed, sitting up straighter to watch Lance fall after him, catching himself with his still glowing and pinkish skin hands. Lance groaned, head hung in shame or just the exhaustion he always felt after these dreams. 

“Bath,” he mumbled, kicking off the tangled sheets from his legs. Not bothering to even try to stand he fell as quietly as he could out of his nest and opted to try to crawl through the den on still shaking legs. Sighing, Keith stood and followed him the few meters he had crawled and wrapped his arms around his brothers’ middle. Lance squeaked, still not used to being man-handled by near fully grown Galra even if they go through this routine every other night. “Keith!” Lance protested, trying not to winch at the contact of skin and the shifting of his pants on oversensitive legs far to dried-out for this shit. Keith wordlessly carried Lance against his will the few steps from their nests to the wash room, unceremoniously dropping him into the steaming bore. Lance struggled under the water, splashing up a storm from the uninvited water in his throat before the instant calming effect took him. Similar to the blue cosmos the water swirled around his body, filling up the dehydrated pores like a sponge. He would sigh with relief if he could, however being underwater made it difficult. Speaking about under water…

Keiths hand was around the tuff of long white fur still present on his head, pulling his face above the water before he would drown. Coughing, Lance willed his body to stay upright without his brothers hands to help. The lights flickered again. Lance stopped coughing. 

“Better?” Keith asked after a beat of silence, sitting his nearly tailless ass down beside the groundwater pool. If it was more than a small lump of long fur on the small of his back Lance would imagine it would be flickering with concern at this time. He was going to miss Keiths tail when he becomes fully grown, he couldn’t hide anything from Lance when his emotions were so open with his tail. 

“Better,” Lance agreed, cupping the water and to Keiths dismay, drinking it. But Lance didn’t care where the water was coming from, deep ground mineral filled or not he needed a drink. His throat was coated with sandpaper, probably from the screaming he apparently does when he dreams according to Keith. But Lance Kogane does not scream. He’s no Galraess in distress, he’s Galra. Unique Galra. Prime Galra. Probably. Definitely. When he presents they’ll see.

“Do you, want to talk about it?” Keith offered slowly as if talking to a scared kit. The skin on Lances’ cheeks deepened to red. 

“Nope, no, no, no, no, no,” Shaking his head he tried to turn away from Keith, a nearly supressed shudder passing through him at the memory of what he saw in the green. 

“But we had a bonding moment, I cradled you in my arms,” Keith protested, trying to scrape up entitlement over an answer he had only poked small details out of his brother from over the two years these furless nightmares occurred. 

“Nope, nope, never happened, Keith,” Lance crossed his arms, pointedly not looking at his brother. Keith threw his paws up in the air, silently praying to Lord Zarkon to make his little brother spill the details instead of vague, ‘it’s just glowey and weird,’ or that one time he had woken up in a full panic pleading invisible forces to ‘give him back, he’s my brother and he’s all that I have left!’. Now that had both of his parents rushing into their nest. Overtime however, Papa and Father had put their trust in Keith to calm their brother down. When questioned if they knew what was happening, Papa had only given them a pained smile and said it was just another different Lance thing, and that they will work it around it just like how they worked around his fur. 

Keith slumped, his eyes focusing on the flush pink of his brothers chest, delicate blue patterns that had appeared there over the years standing out boldly against his not-purple skin. He would never tell anyone this, but he did find it very pretty. 

“I’m trying, I’m trying,” Lance huffed, snapping Keith out of his daze to see the look of deep concentration on Lances face. “You don’t have to glare at it, it’ll be gone soon,” Lance promised, a touch of annoyance in his tone. As if prompted by his word, purple began to seep in large blisters against his brothers’ skin, slowly filling with delicate purple, light violet and red hairs. Keiths lips quirked up at the small pink of Lances tongue sticking out against his will, awestruck at the transformation from different Lance to Galra Lance. Once fully purple, Lance twisted around, searching his body at every angel to make sure he had gotten every last cell of his light pink skin. “How do I look?” Lance smirked, winking followed by dull clawed finger guns that had Keith rolling his eyes. 

“Like a drowned kit,” Keith shot back, earning him an angry ‘hey!’ and a face full of water. 

***

“Chew with your mouth closed!” Lance grumbled, flicking a scrap of red meat which landed with a splash against Keiths’ cheek. Keith beared his teeth, the intimidating effect lost as the piece of food slid down, leaving a trail of yellow and Lance fighting a fit of laughter. 

“I swear on Lord Zarkons name if you two boys don’t stop playing with your food I will never hunt again,” Thance growled, more tired than angry. Felp made a disgruntled noise, his eyes narrowing on his mate who reassured him he was only joking, thus losing any authority in the previous statement. Lance shoved a good handful of food down his throat, doing his best impression of a vacuum cannon while his pack ate slowly like civilised Galra (or time wasters in Lances’ opinion).

“I wasn’t even eating with my mouth open to begin with,” Keith hissed, ripping into his serving, sharp glare held with Lance in a fight for silent dominance. 

“Speaking about hunting,” Felp started, hands busy with the carcass however eyes trained on Keith, “Any strong Galresses in your training garrison?” 

“Paaaaaa,” Lance groaned, covering his ears while simultaneously trying to keep up the hurried eating speed to get out of this conversation their parents had been trying to have with Keith ever since he presented as a Galra. But he also had other reasons to go quickly, today being Keiths day off which meant Lance day out and Lord Zarkon help him if he is delayed by embarrassing chitter chatter. 

“No,” Keith responded, ignoring Lances whining as he trained his eyes on the food in front of him, stomach turning unpleasantly. 

“Whatever happened to that big Galraess,” his father pondered out-loud, “Hunk wasn’t it?” Lance made a chocking noise, imagining his sweet best bro Hunk being courted by his brother made bile churn up into his throat. It would be a disaster, Hunk needed someone strong and loyal and sweet just like him, not _Keith_. Keith was rude and impatient and hot-headed. Lance reported this, earning a disapproving glare from his father. 

“Shut up and eat your food Lance,” Keith barked, his own food going untouched. 

In an annoyingly high pitched tone Lance mimicked, “Shut up and eat your food Lance,” before threatening his nest mate with another piece of meat. Felp snatched it from his youngest juveniles’ paws, throwing Keith a warning glance before slapping down more food onto Lances plate. Lance held back a whine as he looked at their communicator which displayed it was only a handful of ticks until he could leave the house. 

“I know for certain there is a good handful of potential mates in your-” Flep tried again before a loud hand came down onto the table followed by a wave of aggressive Galra scent that made Felp recoil. 

“Keith!” Thance shouted, nostrils flaring at the offended smell that discomforted his mate. Keith jumped from his chair, fangs out however neck turned outwards in subtle submission as the chair crashed to the ground. 

“Let’s go, Lance,” He growled, storming away from his brother who had leaped from his seat as well, hands out as if to catch a fight between his pack. 

“Finally,” Lance breathed, giving his Papa a quick nuzzle on the cheek and throwing his Father and apologetic smile for Keith. He almost jumped out the door, jacket in hand and caught up to his quickly retreating brother. 

“They’re only trying to help,” Lance informed him, his hand hovering just above Keiths’ arm, contemplating weather touching him would get his hand ripped off at this moment. Keith groaned, the slight musky smell Lance had learnt was aggression fading away from his brother as he ran a shaking paw through his long head fur. 

“I know,” Keith sighed, and Lance dubbed it safe to entwine their arms, “it’s just,” he gestured to the air with his free hand and Lance waited for him to continue patiently as they strode down the street towards the main district. “I don’t even interact with real Galra anymore in training!” Keith hissed, “It’s just sentinels and droids and metallic cold smells and,” He stopped when Lance grabbed his other paw, untangling it from his fur he hadn’t noticed he was ripping at. 

“If you grind your teeth even more they’re going to look like mine,” Lance huffed, trying to defuse the tension built up in his brothers’ shoulders, it worked barely. “I know the less pack work is getting you riled up, however I’m not stupid, I know there has to be more to you not finding a mate yet,” he was quiet for a moment, and Keith wondered if he was waiting for him to deny it but one look at his nest mate, ears turned in, head turned away, lip caught between teeth, he knew Lance was trying to ask him something that troubled him. 

Keith gave him a moment, a whirlwind of possibilities crossing his mind that made his chest tight. Finally, in a small voice only audible to listening ears Lance asked shakily, “It isn’t because of me is it?” the bomb was dropped and Keith refused to look at the destruction it caused when he could not bring himself to deny it. “Keith,” Lance mewled, planting his feet into the dirt and untangling their arms. Keith didn’t want to turn around, but Lance had other ideas. With surprising strength, Lance twisted Keiths body to face him, grabbing his chin and turning it down to face him. “I’m going to be fine on my own, I’m the super sharp shooter Lance, a lone okami, to be super Zarkon squad sniper that works alone,” Lance demonstrated his independence with a series of finger gun poses, straightening up to catch Keith’s rolling eyes, “so go out there and get some Galraess-” 

“Lance!” Keith covered Lances grinning mouth, purple darkening around his cheeks. 

“I could totally help!” Lance exclaimed dramatically, taking Keiths hand and striding down the last lane separating the den district from the market district, “serious talk now Keith,” the sly grin Lance gave him was never good news, “any Galraesses you have your eye on?” Keith snatched his hand away from Lances, “What? You point to the pretty face, I set them up, get them comfortable with an approaching Galra, then boom, I give you the signal and slip away as you start woowing the quiznark out of them with your-” Lance held out his hands, gesturing to Keiths body like a prise, making said prise frown unhappily. 

“Lance, I swear to Zarkon your-” the words caught in his throat as a guard platoon marched passed the market parameter, Keiths heckles rising at the sentinels however eyes caught on the marching Galra leading the tiny fleet. Lances ears sat up, mischievous grin dancing on his lips at his brothers unusual reaction to a stranger. 

“And who is the pretty face that has you speechless?” Lance pondered cheekily out loud, following Keiths gaze and freezing when his eyes fall on a familiar puff of white hair and full Galra prime. Stumbling back, he catches his brothers’ attention and to Keiths horror begins to lose the fur around his eyes revealing his glowing blue scales framing bright blue pupils floating in milky white. “He was there,” Lance whispers, however Keith doesn’t give him time to elaborate, seizing Lances hand and running the opposite direction of the guards. The dim gold eyes of the solider follow them as the two Galra juveniles bolt from the market district. 

“What the quiznark Lance!” Keith hisses, feeling the soft grip on his brothers hand turning to clumpy and rough, a quick glance back revealing that yes Lance was losing his fur rapidly which was panic inducing enough without the far off gaze Keith was getting, the only response Lance seemed capable of. “Lance! Look at me!” He ordered as he threw his brother into the first hole in the wall alley he came across. Lances skin lit up the darkened space like fire, “don’t make this last bit of freedom you have disappear because of a furless episode while you’re awake,” Keith growled as he shrugged off his jacket and attempted to cover up his brother as best as he could. “Weren’t you just saying you would be fine?” Keith shrieked, shaking his brother to catch a response, “This is not fine!” 

“Is everything ok here?” a voice asked at the entrance and only exit of the alley. Keith flattened his body against his brother, breath heavy as he pushed warning scents in every direction, his last attempt to protect his brothers’ secret without slicing the throat of the stranger peering in. Lance pushed at Keiths chest and against his threatening growls sat up to stare at the gold eyed solider gaping at the blue glow while illuminated his face. 

“You helped a small green alien escape,” Lance whispered, eyes wide and finally seeing. Keiths paws wrapped around his short blade strapped to the small of his back as Shiro froze, his shock turning to horror briskly. 

“And you’re not Galra,” Shiro whispered back. Keith lunged at Shiro, blade angled to kill. Thrown off, the larger Galra barely jumped out of its path, the blade clipping his armour with a screeching spark. 

“Wait!” Lance cried behind him, a sharp zapping light slashing passed Keiths head and striking Shiros shoulder as the Galra reached for his blaster. Shiro yelped, a sound neither of the two Galrans had ever heard from a Galra, and collapsed just short of the alley entrance, blue white lightning sparking across his motionless body. “Oh dear Lord Zarkon,” Lance gasped, “I killed him!” Keith caught Lance before the Galran could rush to Shiro, backing him further down the dead end with shaking yet firm hands. 

“Your fur, Lance,” he hissed as Lances back hit the wall, “your fracking fur first,” he pressed shaking fingers onto Lances eye scales, an involuntary cry fighting its way out of his little brothers throat at the touch. Lance squeezed his milky blue eyes shut, fighting tears as they both shake from adrenalin and fear. His little brother latches onto his other hand, searching out comfort that Keith was willing to give behind the blind rage he was currently fighting off. However the touch burns, and Keith instinctively pulls back, receiving a wave of despair laced in Lances scent for the reaction and then surprise when he latches onto his nest mates’ wrist to stare at the steam rising up from Lances skin. That light, power, it was Lance. 

Slowly, purple returns to his nest mates skin, the intricate red and lighter designs disregarded or forgotten leaving his brother looking blank and without the personality Keith associates with him. He reluctantly lets him go, and Lance bolts to the fallen Galra who had stopped emitting random sparks of blue lighting but still laid as still as death. Lance thumbled with the Galras breastplate straps, hands still unsteady, however after the third try the armour slipped off. Lance tossed it and pressed his ear to Shiros chest, the Galras’ thin black undersuit the only barrier between them. Feeling protective, Keiths heckles rose, and he stood over his nest mate, his mind racing with plans of disposing the body. 

A broken sob broke through the silence, “He’s alive,” Lance hid his face in the solider’s chest, listening to the slow heartbeat. “I didn’t kill him,” he whispered and Keiths arms are wrapped around him in another protective shield, guiding his nest mate to turn to him and be held properly. 

“What are we going to do with him?” Keith asked seriously after a moment of letting his brother break down with relief and fear which made his nose twitch. They both turned to gaze at the unconscious Galra, both coming to different conclusions. 

*** 

“I do not support this,” Keith informed him the seventh time as they lugged the solider into their nesting area, his weight shared between them, “We should have just killed him,” Keith insisted, “not too late to do that I might add,” Lance did not respond, “Papa and Father are going to be pissed,” he tried again, urging his kit brother to see how very bad this plan of his was. 

“Papa and Father don’t get home until the moons have cycled at least twice,” Lance shot back, beginning to lower Shiro down into his nest however pausing when Keith snarled and silently pulled the Galra around to lay in Keiths nest instead.

///chapter not completed yet, posting non-beta 'post as I go' parts for this fic

**Author's Note:**

> This is a whim fic. I've got it all planned out and everything, but I just need time and motivation and to stop avoiding my other fics but here i am...


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